I had occasion to be sitting in my pick-up at a cemetery recently. I sat gazing across the manicured lawns and the acres of monuments and tombstones erected to honor the dead. Some of the monuments were sculpted wonders; some were simple slabs whose letters and dates had faded in the wind and rain of the ages. As I always do in a place like this, I thought of those who rested here, and those who cared enough to mark the place where life had ended.
I thought of all the different cultures in the world, and how each one has their own way of honoring the dead. In all the many ways, traditions of burial rites, it is a way of saying goodbye to those who are passing and making a place of remembrance for the living. All over the world, cultures seem to have a way of saying, "Gone, but not forgotten". As I was lost in these thoughts, I noticed across the way, a car driving up a lane fifty yards or so from where I was sitting.
The car moved slowly up the lane, then stopped next to the flag pole where the Stars and Stripes were waving gently in the breeze. I was out of view. After a few seconds an old man who looked to be in his nineties exited slowly and a bit unsteadily from the car. He stood next to the car, holding to the door and gazing at the flag. It was then that I noticed that the flag was a bit worn. He stood for half a minute or so, then reached inside the car and removed a box. He closed the door and shuffled to the hood of the car, laid the box there, and opened it.
After opening the box, the old man turned to the flag again. He squared himself up to attention, and raised a hand salute. He lowered his salute then and moved to the flagpole. He loosened the chains and slowly and reverently lowered the flag. After removing the flag, he folded it and laid it aside. He then removed a new flag from the box, unfolded it, and placed it on the chain. Once the flag was secure he quickly raised it to the top, then ever so slowly lowered it to half-mast. I remembered then that the American flag had been ordered to half-mast by President Trump to honor the passing of President George H.W. Bush. Forty One had been my Commander and Chief during Desert Shield/Storm.
Once the flag was secured at half-mast the old man stepped back, squared up again, and hand saluted Old Glory for several seconds. He then slowly, almost in Honor Guard fashion, lowered his salute and came to parade rest.
As an old soldier myself, his posture and reverence toward that flag suggested to me that this was an old soldier from an earlier time.World War II or Korea? The slow lowering and rapid raising, the hand salutes, these were proper flag protocol.
The old soldier stood after his salute and just looked at the ground below the flag for a few minutes. I wondered if he was remembering those who had fallen; friends and family perhaps. Maybe he was praying for those gone on. Perhaps he said a prayer for the country he obviously loved. Whatever his thoughts were in that few silent moments, it was silent reverence I beheld...and it was humbling to watch.
After gathering the box from the hood and placing it in the car, the old soldier prepared to enter the auto, but with one foot inside, he stopped and looked once more at the red, white, and blue symbol of the greatest country on earth.Then he eased himself (painfully, I thought) into the vehicle.
As he drove away I found myself saying aloud, "Thank you sir, for your service". I was thankful for the respect and honor shown to our flag. I was thankful for all those who have fought to keep America free. I was thankful for citizens of this great country who still have a sense of respect, duty, and honor.
He never saw me, that old soldier, but I saw him. His actions moved me.
I wondered if he'd ever raise that flag again. I wondered who would take his place. I wondered,when the time comes, if it should be me.
K L Dennie
Jan 2019
